Only the Queen
by AWanderingSoulSometimesLost
Summary: "My dear, sweet Rhaenyra," He whispered into her ear, a threat and a promise woven in the silkiness of his voice, "Only the Queen can command me."


**I've always wanted to write a fic about Daemon and Rhaenyra (ever since I became a proud owner of a copy of _A World of Ice and Fire_ and even more since I read _The Rogue Prince_ ), so here it is. Along with Visenya Targaryen, they are my favourite characters from AWOIAF and I'd be absolutely thrilled if G.R.R. Martin decided to expand on their stories even more (but not at the expense of WoW, of course) or if HBO decided to make a prequel series about the Dance (or the Conquering - or both). I hope you'll like this little fic and I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistake. I own nothing.  
**

Shooting her a joyful smile that would make every woman swoon ( _but it was meant just for her_ , she thought with a proud smile of her own) as he bowed before the King as the tournament's victor, Ser Criston Cole was everything a lady could wish for in her favoured knight.

Rhaenyra's palms burned and hurt, but she regretted not a single clap. The Princess of Dragonstone applauded with all of her longing heart, hoping her white knight would finally notice how much she admired him, how much she adored him. She kept all her loveliest smiles, all her gentlest touches, all her loving stares for him. They washed over him like sunrays, every moment he stood by her side. However, Ser Criston seemed not to feel the warmth of love that burned brightly within Rhaenyra like dragonfire. Whenever he laid his enticing emerald eyes on her, they still saw the little girl he had crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty all those years ago, not the grown woman she wanted him to see. His gazes were kind and affectionate, but not… _passionate_.

On Rhaenyra's right, her father rose from his seat gracefully, a king masterful at playing his part in every situation. For a moment, his eyes clashed with Rhaenyra's, violet as the sky just before sunrise.

 _I made him your sworn shield because you'd asked me to,_ _my beloved daughter._ It felt as if she could hear Father speak to her, even if Viserys didn't utter a single word. _And in doing so I may have broken your heart._

Rhaenyra resolutely looked away from her father, steeling herself against a wave of anger and sorrow that threatened to manifest in tears. She could not cry here and now – in front of Father, in front of Alicent, in front of those who would one day be _her_ people. She was Viserys' heir, the Princess of Dragonstone, the future queen (no matter how much Alicent plotted to place Aegon on the throne). She would show them that a woman could rule as well as any man, follow in the footsteps of her glorious ancestor Visenya Targaryen. The Conqueror's older sister had been loved by few, but feared by all. Despite her sex, no man had dared question her. She had been strong and unyielding in her decisions (even merciless when needed). She surely had never cried – tears were for the weak.

Rhaenyra's eyes, now as dry and emotionless as a statue's, returned to Ser Criston (who had already turned his gaze away from her). But before the knight could be proclaimed victor, a giant shadow covered the arena, cutting off the warmth of sunrays as if the sun had fallen of the sky. Suddenly, screams replaced applause, horses and people alike running desperately to avoid being crushed under claws of a dragon.

Rhaenyra watched as hypnotized as the dragon, as red as blood and at least thrice as big as her own dragon Syrax, landed effortlessly before them. His claws were as long as the Crown Princess was tall and his teeth, tainted with red, looked hardly any less deadly. Rhaenyra's heart thundered in her chest, her fists clenched at her sides, but she stared fearlessly in the dragon's hungry crimson eyes (unlike Alicent, whom she had heard screaming in mindless panic – it was so obvious that the woman had not a single drop of dragons' blood in her veins). His breath stank of blood and rotten flesh, causing the contents of her stomach to travel up her throat, but she swallowed down her revulsion. One could not expect anything from a dragon but fire and blood – petrifyingly terrifying, but also stunningly beautiful.

Just like the man who had climbed off the dragon's back.

Rhaenyra drank in the sight of him, her lungs burning with every breath she forgot to let out. He was even more striking than in her memories, a god among men. A crown – less impressive than the one upon Viserys' head, but a crown nonetheless – lay on his head, but even without it, she believed he looked like he was born to be king. Excitement made her heart pound wildly against her ribcage, its every beat so loud in her ears she feared everyone could hear it in the dead silence that washed over the arena. That _he_ could hear it.

Yet he only had eyes for her father.

"Your Grace." He called out to Viserys. His voice was like roaring of the sea, powerful and impossible to ignore. "Forgive my intrusion on your tournament, for I bring you a gift."

The curl of his lip was sarcastic and entirely unapologetic, his gaze challenging rather than remorseful. But then, to Rhaenyra's astonishment, he removed the crown from his head and placed it in the dirt before his feet – between himself and her father – before bending his knee in front of Viserys.

"My eyes have weakened in your absence, brother." Viserys said in a tone Rhaenyra could not read. Surely he wouldn't turn Daemon and his offering of loyalty away? Had Alicent poisoned him even more against his own brother when Rhaenyra hadn't been looking? "Bring your gift up here so I can see it clearly."

Daemon's posture stiffened as if in offence, but after a moment of hesitation, he reached for the crown.

"Leave the crown."

If it were possible, the silence grew even tenser.

Rhaenyra glanced at her father, but he didn't separate his eyes from Daemon. His expression was serious, but otherwise unreadable. She couldn't tell what his intentions were and it both irked her and saddened her, for Viserys never kept things from her.

Having turned away from the King, feeling betrayed, she noticed Daemon had already mounted his magnificent dragon once again. At his rider's command, Caraxes stood up on his feet, allowing Daemon to slide down his neck and land right in front of Viserys.

"I'm afraid you commanded me to leave your gift lying in the dirt, Your Grace." Daemon's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was no grin playing on his lips now. His eyes, though violet like Father's, reminded Rhaenyra of a wild storm, his hair silver like the lethal embrace of sea foam. This man could take a life as easily as she could take a breath.

Yet she did not fear him. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his strong arms, feel them wrap around her with warmth she had not seen him show to anyone else. Not even her father, even though they were brothers.

When the thought occurred to her, she found it both terrifying and exciting – that Rhaenyra Targaryen was the person Daemon Targaryen loved the most. His love, she felt, was a golden fire that could keep her warm – keep her _alive_ – forever, but could also set her aflame until she burned out like a dying star. Her glow would be short-lived and the end hot and painful – a price she had noticed her father paid every time Daemon's name so much as lingered in the air.

Now that they were face to face, Viserys seemed to fall even deeper into the shadow cast by the man they called the Prince of the City. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, cast an estimating gaze over his half a head taller brother – and pulled him into an embrace that took everyone by surprise, including Daemon himself.

"It's good to see you, Daemon." The King said with love in his voice and heart. "Even without the crown."

Daemon stood baffled for another moment, as if he couldn't believe his own ears, but then his own arms wrapped around Viserys' back and he returned the embrace with force of a man who had truly missed his brother. It warmed Rhaenyra's heart to see her father reunited with her favourite uncle; she didn't even notice when she initiated another round of applause that started out quietly, but was deafening by the time it spread all over the arena.

"Welcome home, brother." She heard Viserys say joyfully, patting Daemon's shoulder fondly. "We've missed you."

Having briefly glanced at Alicent (who stared back at him with obvious contempt, using the skirts of her green dress to shield Aegon and Helaena (the youngest Aemond was not with them, having remained at the Red Keep), as if Daemon might hurt them – _what a foolish idea_ , Rhaenyra thought scornfully), Daemon raised an eyebrow mockingly.

" _We_?" He wondered with just the slightest note of disdain in his voice.

Smoothing down her black dress decorated with blood-red details (their colour almost identical to that of Caraxes' scales), Rhaenyra approached the two men, keeping her eyes firmly on her uncle's face.

"Yes," She said resolutely, " _We_."

Daemon's eyes finally turned to her; she straightened her back almost defiantly, challenging him to find her a fault. Corners of his lips curled in amusement.

"My dearest niece." He drawled casually, bowing his head for less than a heartbeat. He then stepped past Viserys towards her, reaching for her hand. "Every time I see you, you seem to be more beautiful than I remember."

He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the tips of her knuckles. His lips lingered and lingered, as if time itself had stopped, his gaze burning into hers, piercing like a blade. For a moment, she felt a wet touch of his tongue against her skin; she could not help a sigh of surprise escaping her lips. Pleased with himself, he smirked smugly, his eyes growing darker, but never leaving hers.

"I've missed you most of all." He murmured softly, so only she and Viserys could hear it, but then his face broke into a playful grin. "But don't tell your father. He might take offence."

He had been gone for so long she had all nearly forgotten this; how easy laughing with him was, how effortlessly he drew a smile to her lips. Without hesitation, she rushed to his arms, her impatient heart beating as if it intended to break its way out of her chest because it found her feet too slow. He knelt down slightly, wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her in the air without any noticeable struggle, as if she hadn't grown the slightest since their last meeting. As he spun her around, Rhaenyra felt as if she had grown a pair of wings herself and was in no need of dragon anymore. Everything in the world ceased to exist save for her and Daemon; she would be lying if she claimed that she felt any loss at all, that she felt any differently that completely and utterly happy.

When he (all too soon) let her go, she showered him with breathless, affectionate kisses. His skin was smooth like silk beneath her lips. His scent was the very air she breathed, his laugh in perfect harmony with her own. He enjoyed receiving her adoration as much as she enjoyed providing it – it was only the lack of breath that at last defeated her.

"Your secret is safe with me, Uncle." She pulled away slightly, just so she could look him in the eyes. The intensity she found there was new and unfamiliar, as if his gaze literally _caressed_ her, but she liked what she saw. "And I've missed you too."

Daemon's hand suddenly found itself on her cheek; she leaned into it without thinking. She relished in warmth and tenderness of his touch, so affectionate, so loving, so… so _hers_. _**This**_ was _hers and_ _hers alone_ , _no-one else's_ – unlike Ser Criston's smiles…

Ser Criston. Because of Daemon's arrival, she had forgotten all about him.

" _You_ I can believe." Daemon's voice drew her attention again, as if he had sensed it had been on the brink of being stolen. He shot her a gaze she could not read, but its intensity was enough to leave her out of breath. "As long as I know I will receive such a warm welcome, I'll always have a reason to return."

It would be the easiest promise to make, but she had other matters on her mind now that he had brought them up, questions that demanded (satisfying) answers.

"Will you stay for a while then?" _No_ – she rebuked herself – _queens didn't ask, queens_ _ **commanded**_. "You _must_ stay."

His expression softened slightly, another one of his teasing grins she couldn't resist appearing on his lips.

"Is that what the Crown Princess commands?"

The thrill his answer (even if it was a question rather than an answer) caused sent her jumping at him again, hugging him so tightly a needle could not be squeezed in between them. _He would stay._ He would tell her stories of his journeys, of his battles, of his victories. He would race her across the sky (even if Syrax was still too young to compare to Caraxes), from King's Landing to Dragonstone and back. He would make her laugh until her belly hurt and she had no breath left in her lungs.

He would fill in the emptiness that Father had created when he had given parts of his love to Alicent, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond – love that had used to belong solely to Rhaenyra. In her heart of hearts, she had never truly forgiven him for that cruelty, though she still very much loved him. It wasn't unlike the relationship between Viserys and Daemon, she had begun to realize; despite the love they felt for each other as brothers (though Rhaenyra could not claim she understood it, for she had yet to feel something even remotely similar for her own half-siblings), it was like a damaged glass, not yet broken, but no longer whole either.

She would not let that happen to the love between her and Daemon, she swore. It was too precious to her; _he_ was too precious to her.

"If the Crown Princess commanded you to stay by her side forever," She breathed out unevenly, her whispers trembling in dissonance with her heartbeat, as if she was asking him to steal her father's crown for her (was she?), "Would you do it?"

His hold on her tightened; she could feel him chuckle against her hair.

"My dear, sweet Rhaenyra," He whispered into her ear, a threat and a promise woven in the silkiness of his voice, "Only the Queen can command _me_."


End file.
